


Manscape Hunter

by AVegetarianCannibal



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Body Hair, Hannibal Is Obsessed, M/M, Manscaping, Pubic Hair, Shaving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-18 21:29:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11883195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AVegetarianCannibal/pseuds/AVegetarianCannibal
Summary: Hannibal is obsessed with Will's body hair.





	Manscape Hunter

Will Graham has interesting pubic hair, Hannibal thinks. This doesn't surprise him, as he considers everything about Will to be interesting. But speaking purely of the human pelage in regions south of the belt line, it is some of the most sensorially arresting he's ever encountered.

And surely the most plentiful, as well.

The portion that populates his flesh from navel to pubis is of a more common variety, curly and somewhat coarse, though it, too, has its charms. Dark, coiling tendrils are in the habit of peeking up above the waistband of his boxers like curious and fluffy otters, ever watchful for a toothsome treat.

It is the abundance of hair just south of this area that is most intriguing, Hannibal thinks.

Like the Spanish moss that sprouts so profusely from his armpits, the hair around the base of his penis and enshrouding his scrotum is delicately kinked on a strand-by-strand basis, but _en masse_ takes a rather straight and swaying path. It is, at its longest, the length of Hannibal's middle finger. It runs to the inner creases of his thighs and hangs like a chestnut chandelier from his perineum. On the way into the cleft between Will's buttocks, it becomes curlier again, and thicker still, resuming its otter-like curiosity as it springs from the top of his cheeks to gaze unabashed upon the world.

"I could plait your pubic hair," Hannibal announces one afternoon as they sprawl in post-coital redolence upon their bed.

"Most people just sleep after sex," Will says, already sounding drowsy.

Hannibal lets the topic drop for the time being.

As they travel from hiding place to hiding place, Hannibal is gifted the opportunity to view and consider the hirsuteness of Will's nethers in a full spectrum of lighting conditions. The flickering neon of a mobile home park near Miami, the molten glow of a sunset in Havana, the bleached blue-silver of an afternoon in Bariloche... In certain lighting, biblical phrases pertaining to "burning bushes" come to mind. He pushes aside the temptation to discuss the matter of crotchly coiffures each time...

...until the morning he wakes up before Will in their cabin in El Soberio and begins to braid some of his longest pubic hairs, giving his scrotum the intricately plaited decor of a Viking's jawline.

Will wakes up before the last one is finished. "Hannibal, what the hell?" He reaches down to ruffle the braids out of his crotch. "Why does my ballsack look like a Viking's beard?"

"Forgive me, it's just..." Hannibal presses his lips together, cutting himself off.

"It's just that what?" Will prods.

"Your pubic hair is rather long," Hannibal says. "Have you considered trimming it?"

"I've literally never considered my pubic hair, period." Will gasps and sits up, scowling. "Wait a minute---are _you_ unhappy with my pubes?"

"Of course not," Hannibal says. "But... don't you crave change, Will?"

"Not _that_ kind of change," Will says, rolling out of bed in a huff. The discussion, Hannibal knows, is over once again.

A few nights later, the moon is full and suspended directly above them like a dish of cream ready to spill. Hannibal suggests a naked foray into the stream near their cabin.

"I've never been skinny dipping," Will says as he peels out of his shirt.

Hannibal scoffs. "Not even as a teenager with some girl you were trying to impress?"

Will laughs, a full and happy sound. " _Especially_ not then. I was a scrawny thing and puberty came _very_ late."

"But when it came, it was with a bounty of gifts," Hannibal says, and darts forward to scoop him up in a tackling embrace.

Will yelps and playfully darts away, kicking off his underwear before splashing into the water.

Hannibal dives in and swims after him, catching up easily. Not that Will has been trying especially hard to elude him. Now he gets his embrace, and kisses laughed into and onto his mouth.

Suddenly, Will gasps and hops back.

"Something just brushed against my thigh."

Hannibal tries to gather him up again. "I'm sure it's nothing to fret over."

But Will is not soothed. His eyes are wide and his heart beats so thunderously that Hannibal thinks he can hear it.

"Oh, Jesus! It just brushed against my balls! Does this place have those fish that swim up your dick? I'm getting out of the water."

"First, give me a moment," Hannibal says, and sticks his hand into the water between Will's thighs.

"Honestly, Hannibal? Right now?"

"I'm checking for your mystery monster, not copping a feel."

The gentle current sweeps something long and feathery against his fingers. Something long and feathery and...  _familiar_.

"Will, it's your own pubic hair," Hannibal says. "I'm surprised at you being so wary of fish when you're a veteran fisherman."

"Yeah, well, I wear waders," Will sniffs. He reaches down to confirm what Hannibal has already told him. "Damn, they really are long, aren't they?"

Hannibal just hums noncommittally.

The next morning, he wakes to Will cursing in the bathroom.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fucking fuck!” A few moments later: “ _Fuck!_ "

Hannibal shifts around on the bed so he can see through the open door and witnesses Will attempting a duel feat of acrobatics and grooming. His right foot is hiked up on the counter near the sink while his left remains planted firmly on the ground. A slight bend in his knees widens his stance. As he uses his left hand to hold his genitals aloft, he employs in his right a pair of shears with which he snips at the hair that cascades from his groin like the boughs of a willow tree. A snip of the scissors brings about only the tiniest reduction in hair length, as well as another volley of curses.

"Would you like some help?" Hannibal calls.

"I'm doing just fine!" Will snaps. A few moments later: "I can’t reach and I'm afraid of castrating myself."

Hannibal goes over to take the shears from him. "Would you like me to trim them or to shave you smooth?"

"Just trim," Will says. "I hope you appreciate how much I trust you, letting you near my junk with scissors."

"I appreciate everything we share together, Will."

He has Will sit on the edge of the counter with legs spread wide. It's all he can do to focus on the task at hand, but he manages to call to mind everything he's ever learned about topiary and the art of bonsai maintenance. When his work is complete, there's enough fluff on the floor to create an entire Shih Tzu.

Will reaches down to give himself an exploratory rub. "Feels a bit stubbly." He hops down off the counter and gives himself a once-over in the mirror. "Oh Jesus Christ, it looks like a sad, upside-down octopus with a buzz cut."

"Admittedly I'm not a trained groomer," Hannibal sniffs.

Will rolls his eyes. “Just...go ahead and shave it all off, please."

Hannibal instructs Will to go lie down in the bedroom and wait for him. He goes back to him with a wet, heated towel that he bundles up around the area to be shaved.

"Oh, this part is nice," Will admits.

"Prepares the follicles," Hannibal informs him.

He then warms the shaving cream he normally uses on his face, and swirls the silver-handled brush to create a dense foam. He lifts up the still-warm towel and starts by lathering Will's perineum and scrotum.

Will takes a deep breath. "Smells like a fancy creamcicle and trees."

"It's bergamot and tolu balsam," Hannibal says.

"Fancy creamcicle," Will says again.

Hannibal pulls the skin taut before drawing the razor over it. He notices Will tensing up, even holding his breath for a time, but he eventually relaxes. Hannibal shaves all the hair from the creases of his thighs and the base of his penis, wiping off excess shaving foam as he goes.

"Might as well do the crack, too," Will sighs. "It's like having Lincoln's beard down there, all by itself without a mustache."

"Turn over, then," Hannibal says.

Will shifts and flops over onto his belly, arching his back slightly and spreading his legs to present himself in the most accessible fashion possible. Hannibal has to calm himself for the length of several breaths before resuming his work.

When everything is said and done, Will is left as smooth as silk charmeuse, and as prettily pink as his blushing face.

When Will rolls over onto his back, he's at full mast and eager to tackle Hannibal to the bed. There are frantically whispered confessions about how amazing every touch feels now, how his flesh feels alive in ways it never has before. He rubs his newly deforested areas all over Hannibal, rolling his eyes heavenward at the sensation, and nearly loses consciousness entirely when Hannibal laves him all over with his tongue. They hardly leave the bedroom at all the whole rest of the day, and well into the night.

Then, once again, Hannibal is awakened by the sounds of Will cursing.

"Shit! Oh shit! God _damn_ it!"

There's a desperation in his voice that compels Hannibal to flick on the lights and tend to him at once.

"What's wrong?"

Will's hands are scrabbling at his crotch, short fingernails scraping under his scrotum with fevered desperation.

"I think mosquitoes got me or something," he says, scratching viciously. "Fuck!"

He pulls Will's hands away and peers closely until he sees the small, angry red bumps. Stubble is already beginning to break through the surface of the skin, mere hours after shaving.

"It's just a bit of razor burn," Hannibal says. "We should have taken the time to apply something to the area before we got...distracted."

Will wails and tries to scratch again. "It feels like my nuts and crack are on fire!"

Hannibal swats his hands. "It'll be worse if you scratch it. I'll prepare a salve to soothe the irritation. Don't touch while I'm gone."

Will glares at him and balls up his fists.

In the kitchen, Hannibal whips up what ingredients he has on hand. A small glass bowl serves as a vessel for softened cocoa butter, zinc oxide, talcum powder, and drops of melaleuca oil to guard against infection.

Will is still cursing when Hannibal returns to the bedroom, but he hasn't resumed scratching. He lies still as Hannibal applies the salve to every placed he'd shaved earlier, even though the tenseness in his muscles belies an urge to move.

"After the hair grows out a bit," Hannibal begins, "we can wax it."

Will stops trying to keep still and sits up, quick as a rocket. "Fuck waxing, Hannibal! We're _not_ waxing my balls and taint!"

Hannibal nudges him back down and resumes the salve application. "Pulling the hair out by the root would eliminate razor burn. It would also slow the growth."

"It would slow my _dick's_ growth every time I'm near you," Will seethes.

Hannibal frowns. "Pardon?"

"I'm not getting an erection for you _ever again_ if you wax me," Will spells out.

Hannibal lets the topic go, for now.

The next day, the visible irritation has all but vanished. There remains some itching from the stubble regrowth, but Hannibal's homemade concoction keeps it at bay. Will is feeling so much better, in fact, that he agrees to a weekend escape to Mata de São João in Brazil.

"What should we do first?" Will asks once they've checked into their bungalow.

"Anything your heart desires," Hannibal tells him.

Will gives him a tantalizing look, lowering his lashes and quirking his lips into the faintest hint of a lascivious sneer. He takes a step away from Hannibal before reaching up to undo the buttons of his own shirt.

"Let's" (one button undone) "go" (two more) "to" (he shrugs out of his shirt) "the beach!"

Hannibal is a touch disappointed, but reminds himself they have the whole weekend.

It's only when Will steps out of his khaki shorts that Hannibal realizes the scope of his error.

Under the shorts, hidden since their departure from El Soberio like a venomous snake waiting to strike, is a pair of lilac-hued bikini briefs.

Really, to call them any kind of briefs is overly generous. They ride so low in back that they expose the cleft of Will's buttocks, and so low in front that the bulk of Will's pubic hair would be on display if he were still in possession of any. The...the...not _briefs_ , but the _satin obscenity_ passing for swim attire is so snug that nothing is left to the imagination. Even the precise texture of his scrotum shows through.

"Ready?" Will asks, all smiles.

"Ready," Hannibal manages to choke out.

Once on the beach, Will's lovely body and bold sartorial choice draws appreciative looks from both men and women. Even seagulls seem to hoot their approval. Will doesn’t notice, but then he's always been a bit blind to his own beauty, Hannibal thinks.

"I was thinking," Will says as they pick a spot in the sand, "that I could go even skimpier."

"Skimpier?" Hannibal echoes.

Will snaps the waist of his bikini. "Well the stubble's already growing back, so I didn't want to show off any more than this. But if we do the waxing like you said, I could get away with just a pouch."

"A pouch?"

"They have these things," Will says, cupping his hand around his genitals, "that are are just little cloth pouches that hug on right here, and leave the rest of your crotch and ass completely bare."

"Completely bare?" Hannibal is starting to feel like a parrot.

"Think it's too soon to do the wax this weekend?" Will asks.

Two young men walk by and nearly trip over themselves as they lay eyes on the plush roundness of Will's posterior.

"I think," Hannibal says slowly and evenly, "that your skin is _obviously_ too sensitive to be subjected to waxing."

Will makes a disappointed noise. "Really?"

"Forget I ever suggested it," Hannibal says.

Will stretches out on the beach beside him. "I'm not getting shaved again," he says.

"I imagined as much," Hannibal says.

"Sasquatch crotch is coming back," Will warns him.

Hannibal smiles at him. "I'll plan a welcome home party." 

They hold hands and bask in the sun, content in one another's company. Hannibal thinks about how perfectly happy he is, how perfectly and _ridiculously_ happy. He has his life of freedom, and he shares it with this most amazing man who knows him and understands him like no other. He wants for nothing.

Then, with no warning at all, Will sits up and asks, "Have you ever thought about waxing your chest?"

 

-end-

**Author's Note:**

> @hotsauce418 and @apoptoses over on tumblr had a chat about Hannibal grooming Will's pubes and being his usual Extra self about it and entrusted me with writing it.


End file.
